Both Ting Pow and D-Bag made their way into my vernacular. The latter of which made its debut early on, but came in handy many times through gritted teeth and a lopsided smile. Ting Pow was like a little sprinkling of fairy princess dust - it made magical things happen. On a flight from Wisconsin to Boston, a flight attendant came to my aisle seat with a wad-o-napkins and a "Here ya' go. It looks like you missed a spot." With a blink and a nod, I offered up a lilting "Ting Pow" as I gratefully accepted the napkins to wipe up the puke left on my lap by the ailing 3 year old sitting next to me.
About an hour later I needed to use one of the "four lavatories on our Boeing 737, two at the rear of the cabin, one in the mid-section, and one at the front of the aircraft." While committing one of the cardinal sins of flying - standing outside of the bathroom and waiting - some newlyweds hogging the bathroom took their time to uncork, dislodge, and redress themselves from their inaugural plane ride as a married couple. Out of the corner of my eye I see the flight attendant sashaying down the aisle. He stops directly in front of me and with a puckered look on his face, shakes his head and says, 'mmm, that smell is going to linger with you a long time, huh?' Aside from dropping my pants and taking a dump on his shoes right where he stood, I felt that a chortled 'D-Bag' through gritted teeth and a lopsided smile was a totally appropriate response.
About an hour later I needed to use one of the "four lavatories on our Boeing 737, two at the rear of the cabin, one in the mid-section, and one at the front of the aircraft." While committing one of the cardinal sins of flying - standing outside of the bathroom and waiting - some newlyweds hogging the bathroom took their time to uncork, dislodge, and redress themselves from their inaugural plane ride as a married couple. Out of the corner of my eye I see the flight attendant sashaying down the aisle. He stops directly in front of me and with a puckered look on his face, shakes his head and says, 'mmm, that smell is going to linger with you a long time, huh?' Aside from dropping my pants and taking a dump on his shoes right where he stood, I felt that a chortled 'D-Bag' through gritted teeth and a lopsided smile was a totally appropriate response.
Some weeks later the hottest guy in Wal-Mart passed by me and said, 'Mmmmmm, you luk gud standin' next ta that cart.'
I learned a new computer trick: 'Ctrl-A'. How long have we been able to control-A something? It's like the DVR (TiVo), it has changed my life dramatically. Now when I'm in a text box, I can press and hold the control key while striking the A, and voila all text is highlighted/selected. I can't really articulate how fantastic this little keyboard tip is to me!
And is it just me or is scheduling a manicure much like making an appointment with a stripper? What happened to people going by their real first name? Or, better yet, their real nickname? First of all, there is no longer a receptionist. They're called the concierge. The word concierge quite literally means 'an employee stationed in an apartment house lobby who screens visitors, controls operation of elevators, accepts deliveries to the tenants, etc.' I'm no dummy but if there's one thing the receptionist at the nail salon is NOT doing these days, it's screening visitors or accepting packages. They're making appointments - period. But, I digress.
Now when I speak with the receptionist I notice that all the nail technicians have basic two-syllable names like Daisy, Lucy, Sally, or Lily. What is going on here? Are the people scheduling these appointments too inept to properly pronounce some one's first name, so they end up forcing some generic-sounding, Americanized name down the throats of these nail technicians. You know and I know that Daisy's first name is probably DeJaneiro (after that hot bed of sin Rio De Janeiro); and, Lucy's first name is Linh Lao Su (after something). But, for the love of god, call these women by their first name already. Half the fun for me in scheduling a mani/pedi is listening to the RECEPTIONIST struggle to properly pronounce my own first name. I shouldn't be the only one having fun in that exchange.
Despite it's location in one of the most affluent towns in the state of Massachusetts (I go there only because I have a specific autoclave criteria regarding the instruments used during my manicure and this salon meets it), the salon is very much like a lively ESL class. All of the patrons are speaking slowly and loudly, really straining to enunciate their words for the benefit of teaching their nail technician a thing or two about how to speak the English language. Let's not get side tracked by the fact that most of these patrons couldn't read nor write beyond an 8th grade level. But are we serious here? I sit there and silently brood over the ridiculous women making complete fools of themselves AND insulting the intelligence of their nail technician. At least the technician can say AND spell their real name. That's more than the stupid RECEPTIONIST can do.
Now when I speak with the receptionist I notice that all the nail technicians have basic two-syllable names like Daisy, Lucy, Sally, or Lily. What is going on here? Are the people scheduling these appointments too inept to properly pronounce some one's first name, so they end up forcing some generic-sounding, Americanized name down the throats of these nail technicians. You know and I know that Daisy's first name is probably DeJaneiro (after that hot bed of sin Rio De Janeiro); and, Lucy's first name is Linh Lao Su (after something). But, for the love of god, call these women by their first name already. Half the fun for me in scheduling a mani/pedi is listening to the RECEPTIONIST struggle to properly pronounce my own first name. I shouldn't be the only one having fun in that exchange.
Despite it's location in one of the most affluent towns in the state of Massachusetts (I go there only because I have a specific autoclave criteria regarding the instruments used during my manicure and this salon meets it), the salon is very much like a lively ESL class. All of the patrons are speaking slowly and loudly, really straining to enunciate their words for the benefit of teaching their nail technician a thing or two about how to speak the English language. Let's not get side tracked by the fact that most of these patrons couldn't read nor write beyond an 8th grade level. But are we serious here? I sit there and silently brood over the ridiculous women making complete fools of themselves AND insulting the intelligence of their nail technician. At least the technician can say AND spell their real name. That's more than the stupid RECEPTIONIST can do.
I work in health care, always have, and most likely always will. In learning the ways of the hospital, we're taught what the various 'CODEs' mean.
CODE BLUE - someone has passed out, lost consciousness, had a hear attack, basically is non-responsive and the code blue team is called to attend to their needs.
CODE PINK/PURPLE - in some hospitals this is baby abduction.
CODE RED - this one's a no brainer...it means something is on fire.
The one that they don't always publicize, but certainly should consider is, CODE BROWN. CODE BROWN is used when someone takes a power dump in the bathroom at work and leaves it eye-watering-ly stinky. We're not talking someone farted and the fan just needs its time to do its work. Oh no, we're talking someone was laying down some serious logs....going number 2.....dropping the kids off at the pool....pinching a loaf....dropping a big deuce....pinching off a stinky pickle....taking the browns to the super bowl. Not even a haz-mat suit could help combat the odoriferousity of that kind of dookie drill.
The one that they don't always publicize, but certainly should consider is, CODE BROWN. CODE BROWN is used when someone takes a power dump in the bathroom at work and leaves it eye-watering-ly stinky. We're not talking someone farted and the fan just needs its time to do its work. Oh no, we're talking someone was laying down some serious logs....going number 2.....dropping the kids off at the pool....pinching a loaf....dropping a big deuce....pinching off a stinky pickle....taking the browns to the super bowl. Not even a haz-mat suit could help combat the odoriferousity of that kind of dookie drill.
A very dear friend sent me the following quip (not sure who wrote it, but a shout out to him/her):
"May peace break into your house and may thieves come to steal your debts.
May the pockets of your jeans become a magnet for $100 bills.
May love stick to your face like Vaseline and may laughter assault your lips!
May your clothes smell of success like smoking tires.
And, may happiness slap you across the face and your tears be that of joy.
May the problems you had forget your home address!
In simple words....may 2009 be the best year of your life!!!"
It goes without saying that I feel lucky to have made it through another year. I wish for each of you a year of health, prosperity, and happiness!
Happy everything to everyone!
~New Year's snow....
1 comment:
Our nails are designed to protect the fleshy fingertip and help us manipulate small objects. we do not need a lot of time, products or money to have georgeious nails. Just keep them healthy and they will look fantastic. ensure that nails are clean and dry, free of any oil or lotion, before applying polish remove any old polish from nails.
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